This is from a prompt from virgemhoneyee on tumblr. I'm taking prompts from there and i thought it'd be easier to put them in all one place. Reviews appreciated, they make my day.

Prompt; Can I request Papa!Haymitch and Mama!Effie. The plot is up to you I just want to see them as parents.

Beta'd by the wonderful mishaxllins, Thank you so much for making it readable.

Disclaimer: I do not own the hunger games or the characters.

"Effie, you coming?"

"Just a moment!" she called back, placing the last finishing touches on the pre-made roast before setting it inside the pre-heated oven. Closing the oven door with a soft clang, she unwound the spotless white apron from around her waist and hung it from a hook on the wall. She ran her hands quickly through her short hair, she had kept it short after the rebellion, and it made life a whole lot easier with the baby. Who's not so much a baby anymore. 11 years old going onto 21. She was getting more and more taller and older everyday, as Effie not so fortunately found out the other day when Haymitch almost had a fit at her for having two boyfriends on the go. She strode into the living room. There, Haymitch and Inga had set up a board of some sort upon the coffee table. It depicted a map of the world, each continent a different glaring colour.

"Alright," Effie sat next to Haymitch on the couch, while Inga knelt on the floor opposite them, "What are we playing?"

"Risk," Inga replied, rattling a set of dice in her hand with a menacing smile.

"And here I was hoping for a game I knew, like pin the dress on the model," Effie murmured.

Haymitch scooted closer and wrapped his arms comfortably around Effie, "Then it wouldn't be fair, would it? You'd just win."

"Who says I won't win in this game too? Hmm? I seem to remember excelling in games of risk," Effie's voice lowered to a playful purr that made a smirk pull at Haymitch's mouth, mischief flashing in those glass-blue eyes along with something else.

"Ew. Can't you guys do that somewhere else?" Inga wrinkled her nose at their display of affection.

Haymitch, however, was not to be deterred, "Why?" he taunted lightly, "You afraid of getting cooties?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she scoffed, looking like Effie when crossed her arms and glowered, "Cooties don't exist!"

Haymitch lowered his voice dramatically, "That's what you think…"

At the look of doubt and fear on her face, Effie had to bite back a smile, "Well, then!" she brought her hands together with purpose and leaned forward, "Educate me. What is the objective of this game?"

Inga suddenly brightened and reached down to bring up plastic tubs full of little soldiers and cavalrymen and cannons, "It's all about world domination."

At this, a dark brow arched and Effie turned to Haymitch, "And you expect to beat me at this game?"

Haymitch shrugged in return, but he was grinning nonetheless, "First time players almost always lose."

Inga pulled out a small booklet from the box and began reading through the rules. Halfway through, though, Effie halted him, "This can't be right," she scowled in confusion, "The game clearly favours the attacker!"
"You haven't even played yet and you want to change the rules?" Haymitch asked, incredulous.

"The rules are obviously flawed," Effie insisted, her chin tilted up haughtily, "I propose that, should the attacker fail to capture a territory, the defender receives a card."

"You're not changing the game, sly wench that you are. I'm onto you!" Haymitch insisted, waggling a finger near Effie's nose.

Effie snapped her teeth at the offending digit, missing it on purpose, "It's for your benefit as well as mind, dear. If you don't believe me, then by all means let's play the game as it is. You'll wish you'd followed my advice."

Leaning in close, Haymitch whispered, his gaze sparkling, "Challenge accepted."

Effie turned to Inga, who was looking determined, already clutching the plastic box of yellow soldiers to her chest, "Ready, Inga?"

She nodded, enthusiastic, tearing the lid from the box and arranging her troops in neat little rows on her side of the table. Effie picked up the tub of red soldiers, "Then let the games begin."

Haymitch frowned down at the board, chin rested on his fists. The map was a sea of red soldiers with only a small island of blue in Australia and Papua New Guinea. Inga had been ousted thirty minutes into the game, but had contented herself with constructing a sort of paradise for her men, their bodies held as prisoners of war on Effie's end of the table. They were lined up around a plastic lid and she kept regaling Effie and Haymitch with tales of her warriors' valiant efforts in battle that resulted in their ascendancy to Valhalla, where mead flowed rich and fecund as mountain streams, and the lusty Valkyries tended to the glorious fallen.

At one point Haymitch had laughed at her antics and remarked, "Kid, you've been hanging around Peeta for too long"

But Inga had leapt to her feet and brandished a tub of soldiers at his like a sword, "One can never have enough of a backstory for their Heroes. It makes them who they are now!"

And Effie had watched her with eyes soft as grass, a warm smile on her lips.

It was nothing at all like the smile she wore now.

Haymitch's scowl deepened when he caught Effie's eye, noting the victorious edge to her smile, a smile thin, bladed, predatory. That black gaze was hooded and calculating, watching Haymitch instead of the board. She had been swift and brutal in her attacks, relentless. Grumbling under his breath, Haymitch fixed his attention back on the board. He stalled even though he knew he was doomed. Effie owned so many territories, she had had to start using the black soldiers as well in order to fill her ranks when she cashed in her seemingly endless supply of cards for more troops.

Just then, a buzzer from the kitchen sounded, ringing angrily. Effie rose to her feet, "I have to check on the roast. Don't change anything while I'm gone or I'll know." She waggled a finger at Haymitch, whose mouth turned down at the parodied action mirrored after his own playful admonishment less than two hours ago.

As soon as Effie had disappeared into the kitchen, Haymitch sighed, lowering his face into his hands and groaning in defeat.

"Hey, Dad," Inga began brightly, "Wanna have your troops join mine?" She gestured proudly to her miniature Valhalla.

He smiled, "Why the hell not?"

As they initiated Haymitch's sterling dead armies into their heavenly seats, Haymitch asked, "Is there anything your mother isn't good at?"

"Hmm…" Inga thought for a moment, tapping together two plastic cavalrymen, "Cards," she finally decided, "She's great at bluffing, but even she can't out-bluff the randomosity of cards."

Haymitch grinned broadly at her, then placed a tiny infantryman atop a great pyramid of canons she had erected on the table, "Then next time we're playing five card stud."